Maeror Meror
by Soquilii
Summary: Based on 'Extreme Risk' and 'Hunters' Title from the Latin: Mourning Grief Sorrow DISCLAIMER: Paramount owns the characters and the premise behind Star Trek.


'May I have a moment of your time, Captain.'

Tuvok's appearance at the door of Janeway's private quarters during off duty hours raised red flags. The tone of his voice was almost apologetic, but at the same time insistent. Janeway almost smiled. Emotions had a way of oozing out of the man. Tuvok seemed almost…worried.

'Of course, Tuvok. Come in.'

In her oft-troubled times, he had often served her tea. She returned the favor now. Seated with him on her divan, she waited for him to continue.

'I'm most concerned about Commander Chakotay,' he began.

Of all people, Tuvok was the last person she would have expected to discuss a matter which already disturbed her…for Commander Chakotay was not himself these days.

She kept her thoughts to herself and invited Tuvok to continue. Perhaps one who shunned emotions would have an insight she lacked.

'He has been behaving in a most peculiar manner.' Tuvok politely sipped his tea then set it aside.

'In what way, Tuvok?' she asked. 'Has he not been carrying out his duties?'

'His service has been above reproach,' Tuvok said. 'That is admirable, but also indicative of a problem, in my opinion.'

'How?'

'According to the duty roster, his hours have been nearly constant for weeks. His replicator rations have increased because he does not take his meals in the mess hall. The sensors in his room have shown a dropoff in kilowatts consumed.'

Janeway was taken aback. 'Are you spying on him, Tuvok?' she asked directly, remembering the feud between the two of them that simmered the first year on board Voyager. She wondered if Tuvok was going a little overboard in his observations, perhaps out of long-buried resentment that still rankled - for she had chosen Chakotay for her First Officer over him. It was possible, she thought to herself. Even at this late date, very possible…

'On the contrary, Captain. I am merely making observations. If, as you suggest, I appear to be spying, it is only out of concern for the Commander.'

'All right,' she said. 'Continue.'

'Do you recall when we received news of what happened to the Maquis?'

'Yes, I do. The Cardassians allied with a species from the Gamma Quadrant who supplied them with ships and weapons. They ruthlessly wiped out every cell they came across. A few went to prison, but most were killed. B'Elanna took it very hard, as well as most of our Maquis crewmembers. That is, all but Chakotay. He's never allowed anything to affect his professionalism.'

'Yet I believe, despite his valiant efforts, the Commander is suffering a delayed reaction. I believe he is now being overwhelmed by it.'

Considering, Janeway requested another coffee. Tuvok declined more tea. 'Are you sure, Tuvok? All you have are clues that he hasn't spent much time in his quarters.'

'With all respect, Captain, I am Vulcan. Although I have emotions, I repress them. I am therefore most sensitive to one who is doing the same thing. Also, to quote one of your old Terran sayings, he is… _only human_.'

'Exactly what is he doing to lead you to believe this?'

'It's clear that he is overscheduling himself. No holodeck time. Minimal diet. Little or no socialization. Uncommunicativeness outside of duty. Also, I have inadvertently overheard him making sharp answers to crewmen.'

'That doesn't sound like Chakotay at all.' She had heard a similar incident, but brushed it off, thinking the crewman receiving the tongue lashing had it coming.

'Your duty schedule in recent months has allowed you minimal contact with Commander Chakotay, since Mr. Kim has covered the bridge during our course through this area of space. There is nothing in this sector to require one or both of you on the bridge. We felt it was beneficial for the junior officers to gain experience.'

She nodded.

'I am sure that if you observed Commander Chakotay for any length of time you would reach the same conclusions as myself,' Tuvok said.

Janeway sat and thought for several moments. She knew Tuvok was right; she had observed the Commander, and what she had seen bore out what the Vulcan said. She and Chakotay were normally so in tune with each other. Yet he had said nothing, volunteered nothing. Why had he not confided in her?

'I hope I have not overstepped my position in coming to you with this, Captain.'

She laid a gentle hand on his arm. 'Of course not, my friend,' she assured him. 'I'm grateful to you for pointing it out to me. The problem now, is…' She turned away from Tuvok and leaned forward in her seat, clasping her hands. '…what do we do about it…'

'If I may be so bold,' said Tuvok, 'It is not I who should intervene. Those closest to the Commander would be the logical choice to help him.' Janeway smiled. The word _those_ was Tuvok's tactful, one-word metaphor for her. 'I concur.'

'Then I will leave you to decide how best to handle the situation. Good night, Captain.'

'Good night, Tuvok. And…thank you.'

As the doors slid closed behind her guest, Janeway stepped to the replicator for one last cup of coffee. As it cooled in her hand, she paced the room. Ending up as she frequently did, staring out the window at the starfield streaking past, she sipped the now cold, dark beverage. She grimaced and set it aside. She didn't need it anyway, this time of night. Best to sleep on the problem. Perhaps a solution would present itself in the night.

A solution did not present itself. Rather, a host of buried memories descended upon her, disturbing her sleep and her peace of mind. A herd of her own demons ruthlessly attacked her. Her own loved ones had all been snatched away; some long before this Delta Quadrant journey. Her beloved father. Justin. Fellow crewmembers given in the name of Starfleet on her earliest missions. Her mother and sister, family and friends. Mark. Lastly, members of her crew lost in this mission. She felt their loss again, deeply, as fresh as if it had just happened. Overwhelmed and griefstricken, she cried until her body gave in to sleep.

Upon waking, Janeway felt the need to bury the hurt any way she knew how. In a flash of clarity, she understood how he felt. She knew what to do.

Kathryn found him brooding in his quarters at 1400 hours. The door slid open upon registering her presence. Perhaps he subconsciously wanted someone to enter. He was standing at the window, much as she had been earlier, staring into the starfield. She studied his silhouette for a moment. The set of his shoulders, the tilt of his head, everything about him spoke volumes about his state of mind.

'Chakotay?' she called softly, not to startle him.

He didn't answer.

Boldly, she came toward him and clasped his shoulder. He flinched at her touch, every muscle tense. She turned him to face her.

'I've felt lately that something is wrong, Chakotay,' she began, with no mention of what Tuvok had told her. She had a feeling he would not like the Vulcan coming to her about him. 'You seem troubled. I've come to see if I can be of any help.'

He pulled away and turned back to the starfield. Many minutes passed; then he sighed. His Captain was tenacious – she would not leave until he opened up and talked to her.

'You're very perceptive. There is something wrong, Captain. I've been…' he began. She waited patiently for him to go on. 'I accessed B'Elanna's holodeck program – the one where she was injuring herself.'

'Yes, the holosimulation of the Delta Flyer. She had turned off the safety protocols. Plus some others that were suspect -'

'It was one of those. A program involving the Maquis.'

'I wasn't aware of that program.'

'That's because I took care of the problem without bothering you.' His voice was almost sharp. 'B'Elanna was fighting Cardassians hand to hand, surrounded by the bodies of our friends. She was so numb after what happened to them. As time went on … she seemed to get better.'

'Yes, but with the possibility of a relapse … didn't you delete the program so she couldn't access it again?'

He hesitated. 'No,' he said. 'I put it in protected memory under my own code.'

'Why, Chakotay?'

When he turned once again to the window and didn't answer, she knew it was time to get harsh. She raised her voice. 'Why, Chakotay?!'

He shot her a look full of self-recrimination and hatred for his own weakness.

 _'Because I wanted to see them again!_ My friends! My crew! My family! And they _were_ my family - all I had after the Cardassians got done with my home world!' he shouted. Turning away, he collapsed in a chair.

'Sorry, Captain, I had no right to raise my voice to you –'

She disregarded the misplaced anger. 'Perhaps you should have deleted it, Chakotay,' she said calmly. 'I'm sure you know that you have a new family now, here…'

He looked up at her. 'That's exactly what I told B'Elanna. I told her losing people was inevitable. Sometimes it happens sooner than we expect. I told her the crew wouldn't let her stop living her life –- she would have to find another way besides hurting herself to deal with her pain.'

'You would have made a good counselor - almost as good as my First Officer.'

He rose and returned to the window.

Kathryn came to him and clasped his arm. 'Chakotay, let me tell you something. I see before me a man who has shouldered the burdens of everyone on this ship – including my own, and carried them alone. I see a man of great strength and loyalty. I also see a human being in need of help.'

He shook his head stubbornly.

'Chakotay, several years ago I went through a similar crisis, for different reasons. Remember? You helped me a great deal then. Won't you let me help you now?'

'You can't bring back the dead, Kathryn.'

'No, but I can offer you comfort… and the warmth of a friend.'

She knew he was listening, receptive to any suggestion she might offer that would ease his burden.

'Will you come with me?'

Looking down at her sadly, he nodded. He had seen this small woman work miracles before. Perhaps she could work one on him now.

He followed her down the empty corridor to the holodeck; at 1400 hours no one would be about but the bridge crew.

He waited, hands folded, while she tapped commands into the grid. The doors slid aside to allow their entry. Once inside, Kathryn locked the doors with her private security code.

'Now what?' Chakotay asked, listlessly.

She held up a finger for silence. 'Computer, lights at ten percent. Mute ship's sounds. Equipment as requested.'

Now, in the privacy of the locked and darkened holodeck, Janeway lit the thick, old fashioned wax candle. The soft glow allowed enough light for comfort, but not enough to reveal the reality of the here and now; complete darkness would be as bad as blaring light. Barely visible was only a wide, plush chaise lounge. Kathryn gave the candle to Chakotay to hold. The dark eyes, circled with weariness, looked to hers, questioning, but she laid a finger to his lips and pressed his shoulders to encourage him to sit. In the almost total silence, each could hear the other's heartbeat. Standing behind him, she laid her hands on his shoulders, lightly kneading, soothing him with her touch. He sighed and relaxed in spite of himself. Her skilled fingers caressed the nape of his neck, reaching up into his hair to relax incredibly tight muscles and taut nerves.

Many minutes passed during which no word was said.

Suddenly, he reached up and took one of her hands in his. He pulled her close. A harshly muted sob escaped his throat, echoing in the darkness. She leaned in and pressed her cheek against his forehead. The flickering light from the candle illuminated both their faces caught in the tender embrace; casting gentle shadows that dissipated into the darkness. He buried his face in her shoulder and grazed her neck with his lips. Before he quite knew what she was about, she slid the zipper of his uniform down. Her warm hands reached inside, over his shirt, lightly caressing. He pulled away slightly, surprised, but when their eyes met it was as if a tangible spark had passed between them. He bent, tipping the candle, spilling wax to set it. The time was right; the time was now, and he needed her. She knew this; she wouldn't refuse him. His need was not so much physical as it was emotional, not so much desire as it was the urge to feel as close as possible to someone he cared about. Someone who was still here with him; someone who cared about him. Someone he hoped would never leave.

Rising, he slowly shed his jacket, keeping his eyes locked with hers. He came to her and pulled her to him, settling her on his knees in the big chair. Then his hands were in her hair and his lips were on hers, hungrily taking them, quivering in his emotion and in his urgency. They were in complete agreement. Hurriedly shedding uniforms, they were soon locked, skin against skin, in a tight embrace.

In his crisis of loss and in her loneliness, all they had left now was each other. They would deal with losses and loneliness in time and in their own separate ways, but for now, healing meant coming together. Healing meant sharing. Healing meant tasting, touching, feeling. Healing meant feeling alive.

The End


End file.
